Make Me A Storybook
by pianogrl16
Summary: Through time and space, The Sisterhood lives on, long after it had broken apart. A tale from the view of the next generation of the "Septembers."
1. Chapter 1

**I read the four books of **_**The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants **_**dozens of times, so imagine my happiness, when I came up with an idea for a fan fiction! I****t takes place years later, way after they graduate from college. It may seem confusing at first, but that's sort of the point. Anyway, it comes from several points of views, besides Bridget, Lena, Carmen, and Tibby's, but from the generation after them…. **

It had been years since anything was touched inside the faded, worn-out, and almost torn box that stood under the layers of dust in the corners of their deep basement. Early morning sunshine had poured through the closed window as she sat down near it, taking out old memorabilia from a time's past…..

In lovely, cursive spelled out "The Septembers," where a black and white photograph of four very diverse, different women standing together on a brick wall, but acting as if they were connected by blood. Any could tell that they shared a bond together, something more than just ordinary friends could share. She saw a past of laughter, of love, and one of sisterhood. She gazed at the photograph for a few long seconds, until gently folding it back into its original position and setting it beside her on the hard wood floor.

She soon transitioned to a shabby scrapbook of banded white, tatty pages. In it, stood more modernized pictures, where a group of four young girls stood next to a lemonade stand together. One young girl, who she recognized to be her mother, had magnificent green eyes and long dark hair, with a shy, reserved, and almost frightened expression on her face. She wore a pale sundress and her hair was set in a loose ponytail which was almost falling out. Next to her, stood another one of her age, except more petite and Latina-looking. Her dark, expressive eyes shined as she set an arm around her mother. She estimated that they were once good friends. Then stood a bold, outrageous friend, with long blond braids and a taller, more defined body, she obviously was the more confident one of the bunch, while moving to another girl with a grim smirk with a "Rolling Stones" T-shirt on as well as faded jeans, her hair wavy and tousled at the ends. All look eerily alike to the women in the first picture.

She then turned the page, seeing more pictures as time had progressed. From the age of 5 at lemonade stand to the age of 8 at their ballet recitals to 13 at their middle school dance with braces and really bad hair, to finally, what appeared to be her age: 17.

All had significantly grown up. They were taller and their faces and bodies were mature looking and developed.

There, stood 4 young women standing together on a beach in denim minis, and flip flops, one, however, with colored streaks in her hair.

The one's beauty, who stood out the most, was of course, her mother. Her mother had always been extraordinarily beautiful, in the sense that it was almost unreal; she was practically one of those Goddesses from the Greek myths, except her mother was never showy and never glamorous.

She wore a drab outfit, with long jean Capri's, ugly forest green flip flops, and a gray T-shirt with a black one piece behind it.

However, her gorgeous green eyes shone and she broke out into a wide smile at the camera lens with her friends' arms wrapped all around her.

The blond girl had long, grown out hair to the small of her back with an infectious grin and the most gorgeous body. She would have killed for her bod. What emphasized her more were her openness and her love for fun and boldness. She was not as pretty as her mother was, but her outgoing nature and exuberance shone even through a photograph from years ago.

The Latina woman had a curvy body with long, wavy, dark hair flying through the wind. She stood with a lot of emotion, crying as her friends had surrounded her, while the grim woman's face looked even sadder than before, her eyes wet at the sight of them all together.

At this discovery, she reluctantly closed back the scrapbook, taking out the picture, as well. She clutched both tightly into her hands, and put the box back into its original position.

She couldn't imagine a life her mother had existed in before her. For 17 years, she had almost been void of emotion or exuberance, never one to open up her heart and let people in. Instead, she retreated to silence and she was heavily overprotective of her.

Her father had disappeared long ago. She remembered him, she remembered him flying her into the turquoise ocean waves, basking in the sunlight. She remembered walking through the busy cobblestone streets with him, and witnessing him jumping near the stones of the ocean as he swam away with the current. It was 15 years ago, however. 15 long years of waiting for him to come back for her, to do it all again….

They never talked about him. Never talked about going back home with her grandparents and her aunt, in fact, lately, they never really talked much at all.

They were usually so close, she being the only one her mother had confided in, and vice versa. Her mother was still beautiful, just as much or more even through the pictures, men turning to stare at her, once they walked down the streets or walked through the lake of their neighborhood.

Cassandra was considered beautiful too, by any standards. She inherited her mother's lovely eyes and dark hair, but never knew where her distinct cheekbones had come from. But she, like her mother, never revealed their heart's desire and stood near the back of their classrooms, dreamily gazing out, for a world that could be much better than this.

Cassandra never knew of her mother's past life, she couldn't even imagine her mother having a life. She always imagined, dreamed, and dozed off through her painting and sketching. Her apron was filled with paintbrushes, and her palette of fresh, bright colors, always creating magnificent paintings of things she could not even conjure up. But she never expressed any of that through her conversations; her mother never said anything of what she used to be like.

Which was why this forced her to come to this…..

She was desperate for information, desperate because she needed to knows the truths about whom she was and where she came from. She was 17 and now a graduate of high school and preparing for college. She needed to know, or else, she didn't know how to explain to others or enter into the real world if she didn't know about her life. She was missing everything…..

She finally stood up, closing all of her thoughts, and ran downstairs, to the porch where her mother had been mixing lemonade. Fresh fruits lay all across the counter with scrambled eggs and bacon. Her mother wore the same outfit, an apron with her hair tied up into a messy bun, her face void of any make-up or lip gloss, and a plain expression on her face. She turned and flipped a pancake over, not saying anything, until she beamed slightly at the sight of her daughter.

"Cassandra. I didn't know you were awake so early."

She nodded and sat down on a stool, watching her mother continue to cook. "What are these?" She pointed to the photographs in her hands. "Do they mean something?"

Her mother's eyebrows raised up, and her eyes widened in shock. She clearly hadn't been expecting this.

"What were you doing up in the basement? That box was significantly private."

"Does it mean something important?"

"It was a long time ago, Cassandra. Eat your bacon."

"If it didn't mean anything, you would not still have them!"

"I hardly remembered I even had them. It's been too long since I have even glanced at that box. Don't raise your tone at me, either."

"You never tell me anything."

"Cassandra…."

"Mom."

"Cassandra!"

"MOM!"

Lena rolled her eyes and finally set down her boiling pan and sat across from her only daughter. She sighed.

"Their names were Bridget, Tibby, and Carmen. We lived in Bethesda, Maryland together and were friends for nearly 20 years. It was the past; however, Cassandra and you should not be focusing your energy onto that anymore."

"Shouldn't it matter though, because they were such a huge part of your life?"

"Cassandra, that's enough. You cannot tell me what I will or will not do."

She turned on her heel and left her only daughter glaring back at her figure.

"Do not look at that box again," she warned her sternly.

She angrily closed the door, leaving a confused and scattered Cassandra behind. It was then that she had decided that it was more than just a box to her, more than just a past, more than anything she could have ever imagined if she had kept it from her. More than a simple friendship between four teenage girls…

She glanced back at the picture of the four girls on the beach, of a time where everything was less confusing and terrifying with her mother, of a life where she wasn't scared about life and when she had actually welcomed it….

She turned the picture over, surprised to see a message scrawled….

_The Sisterhood and the Septembers Forever…. _

_Carmen _


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark outside, the only source of light coming from the stars above. She craved this time of day, wishing that night could exist all around. Twilight was dawning and a soft, mysterious wind swept through her entire body, making her shiver just slightly. Jewel proceeded on like nothing had happened, and _ran. _Ran like there was no tomorrow, ran like death was catching her at her tail, ran so hard, that she couldn't feel her body break down and her legs ache, and her arms in pain. Ran so hard that she forgot that she had reached home and collapsed onto the cold, wet grass beneath her, ready for it to soak her in.

Did she mention that she loved this time of the day?

However, she was dismayed when she glanced up and saw a tall, statuesque figure rising above her. Long blond hair was put off to the one side of her face, and sweat dripped from her forehead to the ground. "That was nice, Jewel. But you still had the old woman beat you here."

Jewel rolled her eyes and released herself up from the ground. Her legs and arms were aching and sore, and she was dizzy. She did have to run in the _dark. _

"Thanks for your support, _mom." _

Bridget laughed and wrapped an arm around her flesh and blood. "Let's go inside now. I'm feeling like a large mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows."

"Don't forget the whipped cream," Jewel added.

"Who could forget the whipped cream?"

Jewel had never felt so connected and close to a human being like she was to her mother. Her mother was loud, outgoing, and spirited. With an exuberant spirit and infectious personality, it was no wonder that her father had fallen hard for her, not to mention her tall, athletic figure and body plus her wavy, tousled blond hair which wrapped around her tan shoulders made her seem like a _Sports Illustrated_ model.

Jewel and Bridget were all the same. Jewel acted her age: 17, while Bridget was 38 going on 16. Both craved sausage pizza at midnight, Ben and Jerry's ice cream pints and mugs of hot chocolate at 2 A.M., and pillow fights when lightning stroke. It felt like one large sleepover with her every night, just with a mother.

Bridget, however, had matured and learned so much while raising her daughter. Throughout a span of 17 years, it felt like nothing could tear them apart, especially after a series of tragedies had spun right before and after she was born.

Jewel had inherited her loud, spirited personality that always shone through. One surprise, however, was she didn't even inherit that hard and addictive passion for soccer like she did. She preferred to sparkle with her notebook and pen, while she would quietly sit at the piano, composing something incredible. It was then when she had heard Jewel's first song that she had realized a gift far more powerful what Bridget could give her, hence the saying: "The pen is mightier than the sword."

It was often said that Bridget and Jewel acted like sisters, more than mother and daughter. But Bridget held Jewel so much closer, and vowed for something sacred and special between, something that her mother never really had the opportunity with as she grew older, and it was the fact, of the deep, uncovered wounds which had scattered her whole life which made her struggle so much more.

Jewel was stunning, in a sense, but she was also very awkward. In fact, they didn't even look like family! Jewel resembled her father so much, with dark, raven hair in long tresses and her old Latina heritage from Eric's side of the family emphasizing through. With dark, hazel eyes and bubbly, rosy cheeks, she looked like she could be the main star of _High School Musical, _too bad, Jewel was a little more like Kelsi than annoying, perky, and perfect, Gabriella.

Bridget immersed herself into her deep thinking once again until a high-pitched voice interrupted her. "Mom? Are you okay? Shouldn't the mugs be ready by now?"

She turned around to face her, and she nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah. Go ahead and get them in the microwave."

She fetched a large bowl and filled it with the now heated bag of buttery popcorn and then reached for _Casablanca. _

Jewel rolled her eyes, once more, a constant habit, and sipped from her hot chocolate. "Again? Do you have a penchant for romantic tragedy or something, mom? Because yesterday, it was _An Affair to Remember._"

Bridget shrugged. "A girl's got to have so drama once in a while, Julianna Richman. We do have boring lives, after all."

Julianna winced at the use of her full name. "Where did you even get the name, Julianna? It reminds me too much of that irritating E! co-host."

"Except her name starts with a G, while yours is with a J," Bridget smirked in victory.

Jewel, and then saw a letter from beneath the messy pile of mail that had exploded all over their kitchen counter. It was scrawled in skinny, dark penciled handwriting:

_**Bridget Vreeland **_

_**3388 McDonald Street **_

_**Clarence, Florida **_

"Mom! This letter's for you, it has no return address on, though."

"Leave it there, Jewel! I'll get to it later."

"Okay!"

Jewel peered over at her mother, with the large popcorn bowl in between her hands, and her feet propped up, starting up the DVD player. Jewel then hid the note inside the pocket of her Julliard sweatshirt, intending on finding out what was hidden inside.

Jewel had a gut instinct inside her, one that told her, her mother would forget about the letter and throw it away, and it was more than just a letter. She could feel it, and it thrilled her, that maybe it could be something from her grandfather, but her mother would probably hide it from her or throw it away.

Maybe Grandpa Vreeland was finally taking the chance and opportunity to see her and meet her….

She thought this with a content smile as she sat through the rest of the film.

_Bridget Vreeland, my name is Cassandra Kaligaris, and I am the daughter of Lena Kaligaris. My mom told me you two were good friends before. Anyways, my mom wanted to start a reunion between you four soon and asked me to contact you. _

_Please write me back soon at the address in the slip of the envelope. I look forward to hearing from you….. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Thank you for your sweet reviews! However, like anyone else, I would love you forever if you still read the story PLUS review! That's a totally awesome combination. Anyways, here, the story goes forward a little bit more…. **

All her life, she had been inseparable with them. For 20 years, she had given it her all, and devoted everything of her to what she thought would be an everlasting bond. She had given everything she had to make up 1 whole person with 3 other individuals, rather than learning that she was herself during the process.

Ultimately after the fairytale had ended, she had learned something very important: She had lost herself. She had lost herself because who she was laid beneath the very depths of their deep and unbreakable friendship. Everything depended among the spirits and the hearts of 3 other people who she meant to cross paths with, even before she had graced the Earth. She wasn't meant to find herself, _alone. _

She was probably the one whose friendship meant the most to her. Carmen had always been an emotional person, an emotional person who loved hard and was given that love back in return. It was what was always expected of her and what she had always expected. But she depended on this love too much; she had believed that love could carry you through time and space, and that she never realized the true significance of anything else.

Her mother had moved on. She was so used to that immeasurable love and affection from her mother, that she forgot that there were so many other people that needed it, just as much. Her mother had moved on with her new family. She wasn't abandoned, but it was no doubt that was how she felt once she had come back there a few weeks ago.

Her father was of course, the same as before. In mere and desperate communication with him, she sent him a scrawled letter to him every once in a while with a photograph, he barely replying with a sentence-long phrase and ending it with: "Everything's all right, here, Carmen. Come back soon. Love, Dad."

She knew she was invited and she should at least consider these words without assuming that her family was abandoning her or anything, but there was barely any emotion or pleading in his words, like he didn't need her to be there, or maybe it was because that she was still so used to a life where she was begged to be there, where she was _needed, _because for those other 3 people, as well, she completed them, too.

She wondered why they had ended it. Why it had ended…. There was no clear reason to why all communication stopped. She didn't know how their bond, their _sisterhood, _could have ended, when there were so many more pages to the storybook, unfinished. She had been the one most affected, probably, because she was the one that would always give and love the most.

Carmen had only 1 reason to be living….

"Hey," a kind voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned the stove, her hair undone with strands falling out from her dark, thick ponytail, her make-up a little smudged, and an apron smeared with grease. "Hey," she whispered out in a softer voice.

Mark grinned slightly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and kissing her gently on the forehead. "Are you all right?"

Carmen sighed and leaned her head further into his chest, so close that she could hear his soft breaths.

"Now that you're here," she closed her eyes.

And she meant it….

* * *

Mark and Carmen had been married for a solid amount of years. He had given her life more meaning than it had been when they had left it. Not only had he and God blessed her with a daughter, but he had loved her whole-heartidedley, never feeling like it was ever half-given.

Their adolescent daughter had walked in suddenly as they had set the table up. Her hair was wrapped up in a chignon with a scarf pulled around it, her gold bangles making sounds together, as she strolled in gold strappy sandals with a yellow, bohemian skirt and white tee on. All of characteristics and personality was one of which was totally different than of her ambitious and go-getter mother. Laidback and calm, she could have been born as Alicia Kaligaris instead of Alicia Everard. However, looking like she had inherited the attributes of all of the other members of her former friends, she had her mother's long, raven, hair to the small of her back, with Bridget's crystal eyes and a little of Tibby's independent streak. It felt like their friendship had carried over to so many years, symbolically telling her how much she missed them.

"I already ate at Lucy's, Mom. I'm just going to finish some Calculus homework, and check over Facebook for a few minutes, then go to bed. Is that okay?"

"Go ahead," Carmen nodded to her only daughter. "Make sure you check over your homework, instead of impulsively finishing it, okay?"

Alicia rolled her eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "Yeah, no big deal. Good night."

Carmen sighed again as she watched her run upstairs and glanced at her husband's figure at the dinner table.

"I need them back, Mark."

Mark glanced upwards at her face, her tired, worn-out face of which her features had dried out. Her eyes were distant and wandering and her heart had been closed off and guarded. She hardly left anything open for him, anymore, but to him, he always felt like she would always be beautiful, as she once was, when they had met, 20 years ago.

And it was then, that Mark had finally understood what she meant, to his relief, when she opened her heart again.

"I miss them," her voice now sounded desperate and weak, and implying that she wanted him to do something.

"Then you find them."

He stood up and put two hands on her shoulders. "And when you do, everything will go back into place."

"Alicia reminds me so much of them."

"Then that's one reason to find them. It's telling you something."

"And if I don't?"

He shrugged his shoulders, playfully. "Then you still have us."

* * *

Alicia's eyes bulged out once she heard the voice of a girl she didn't know, but she felt like she could talk to for hours on end, a girl to whom another part of her felt complete, and apart of her felt like she had known her in another lifetime, in some type of "forever."

"Our moms actually did that?"

She laughed and smiled as she strolled through the Facebook profile of her new friend. Extroverted and lively pictures of the beautiful brunette popped up as she clicked into a new window, followed by another look-alike, except that hers were more focused onto her artwork, rather than partying.

"So how did you find out my number, anyway?"

Alicia wondered aloud, leaning back into chair.

Jewel Richman had shrugged on the other side of the phone line, except in a total different place of the U.S.: "Cassandra told me. In fact, she kind of set this whole thing up."

Alicia mischievously smiled and tapped her fingers together in unison. "Then we better get it into action, if we want some real one-on-one together…."

And it was then that the scraps of the leftover storybook had slowly been binding itself back together again, one by one….

**REVIEW PLEASE! I'll love you forever! **


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry for not updating sooner. School and exams had flooded me, but now that's its summer, I'll be able to update more! I am so excited about what's going to happen in the near future for these girls! Enjoy! **

There were many reasons to why she had named her baby girl, "Irene."

Tibby was astounded at the fact that she was pregnant. She had taken multiple tests, each, in slow motion, watched the stick turn blue, had felt nauseous and sickly from the news. Turns out it was just morning sickness……

But nonetheless, she and Brian had made it work. As the unnoticeable bump on her stomach became swollen and larger by the second, they had scrimped together cash to create a nursery in their barely-furnished apartment.

She had hoped and prayed for a boy. Lord knew, that she could handle the angsty and tumultuous years of a teenage girl, she knew she would be fit best to raise a large team of budding and strapping boys. Brian wouldn't care, just being with her filled the void of his empty family life.

However, it wasn't until she cradled her new baby and stared into the sea-green eyes of that tiny human being that she realized what a gift and a miracle it was to have a baby girl, to have all those years relived again through another piece of her and Brian, together. She kissed her delicate, porcelain forehead and held her close, and in that very moment, it seemed like all her problems had disappeared, everything that had surrounded her life from before didn't matter anymore because she would always have Irene back.

Tibby had a life consisting of storms. From pregnancy scares to a dear and young friend who had died after just 1 summer, she thought the calm would never walk in, until bearing a newfound child. Once she had laid eyes on her, she knew she would be the missing puzzle piece, the calm that would wash the tides away. "Irene" was considered the Greek Goddess of peace. She kind of liked it.

Besides, what else was she going to name her, something normal?

But that peace was gone, it had always been gone. Let's face it, the moment Irene had been put on this Earth, it wasn't going to save her, nothing could save Tibby.

She felt like she had lost _everything. _As usual, she had pushed Brian away, _for good. _And not to mention it, the sisterhood had fallen apart, and her career as a budding filmmaker consisted of small indie films that had to settle as rejections to unrenowned film festivals. She didn't create any works of art, anything that could change the world, and the one piece, the one puzzle that she thought she could influence, had lost their mind too.

Tibby watched as her daughter reluctantly sauntered to the mirror, and put her remaining strands of hair behind her ear. _"I am beautiful, I am smart, I am great. I am beautiful, I am smart, I am great….." _

Tibby's eyes started to water, and before she knew it, one fat tear hit the tile before she could even notice it. But the thing was, she didn't care anymore. She didn't care about how she felt, she didn't care about anything, except the broken and beautiful mess in front of her, only that was disappearing, as well.

* * *

Irene couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't face herself in the mirror, she couldn't keep on repeating nonsense about her and her lie of a life. She shook her head rapidly and rushed over to the toilet, destroying herself as she vomited. It was disgusting, and it hurt, terribly. She threw up as much as she could, she didn't count or analyze how much food she had eaten, how much she had barfed over the last year.

Her mother was sending to rehab. She was sending her over to some loony clinic to get help, like that was going to help fix her insecurities, her doubtful self.

She stopped after several minutes, wiping her mouth with a scrap of toilet paper. And then she cried. She didn't know of a time where she didn't.

Fat tears glided off of her porcelain cheeks, her large, expressive eyes turned to an eerie red as she stared back at her reflection.

_I hate you. _

She didn't remember a time where she didn't….

Her mom and her had been so close before. Her mother used to gently rock her to sleep as a child, used to invite her into her works of art, become her source of inspiration. She didn't know of her parents' impending divorce, because, frankly, her mother guarded everything with the utmost care. She refused to let her daughter in of her insecurities with her former husband, her own father.

She knew Tibby had pushed him away, the only place of sanity in the Rollins household. She didn't know of any people that Tibby let in, people who loved her and she loved back.

She didn't know of any, and to be honest, she was slowly losing that love for her mother, the mother who had destroyed her life when her father cupped his hands around her delicate face, and whispered: _"I don't know when I'll be back." _

She blamed it on her, she knew it was Tibby's fault, because everything was her fault…

Because of her mother, she didn't know how to love, including how to love herself….

She had binged because she thought she could love herself better, she could escape from everything, her vanished father, and her unpopular reputation at school, her mother's distance and drift. She could finally find a way where she could run away from the stupid world and its realities.

She thought she would look more perfect as time wore on, but she didn't instead, the doubts kept piling on, growing into an ambush.

Her teachers and the people at school noticed her. They saw how thin she was becoming, to a sort where her clothes started hanging off her body, and you could literally see her bones outlined. She was so scared, so fearful of what her mother would do once they called her and forced her to go to the school therapist.

And then they had suggested some rehabilitation facility in Utah, one of isolation and "serenity," and they would force her to give up all sorts and types of electronic life. She couldn't even text her mother until once for 20 minutes each evening, and that would be the only type of communication there. Irene would be stuck literally, in the middle of nowhere.

Nowhere was where she was heading for, anyway.

"IRENE!" A voice interrupted her depressed thoughts. "The phone is for you."

Her mother's eyes looked hopeful as she handed it to her. "Is it a friend? Did you do your exercises? Did you throw anymore?"

She snatched the electronic from her hand and glared at her only family. "Yes, I did your sissy exercises and I didn't throw up."

"I thought I heard the water run."

"I don't need you nagging me, all right? I'm fine, and besides, you're already sending me to the asylum to give me a confidence boost, anyhow, right? It will all be over soon, so you can try to go back to fending for yourself, right mother?"

Tibby's face fell. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour."

She walked out of the room, leaving Irene to put her hand away from the speaker of the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, are you Irene Rollins-McBrian?"

"It's Irene McBrian," she snapped back. "And who are you?"

Alicia, on the other line, ignored her nasty tone. "I'm Alicia Everard. I live in San Francisco and I think, no, I _know_ that my mother was best friends with your mother uber-long years ago."

Irene let out a malicious laugh. "My mother didn't have any friends, she has no one, except me. But that will change, eventually."

Alicia shook her head on the other line. She knew of people that were bitter, but this one took the cake.

"Look, without maliciously laughing or snapping at me, just listen up. Apparently, our mothers formed some kind of unbreakable friendship years ago, from the time they were born up until our age. In fact, our grandmothers were friends, as well. Your mother, my mother, and 2 other women were what the group was consisted of. Somehow, they broke up a few years before we were all born, like 18 years ago or so. Anyway, I'm in touch with the other daughters of the group and now, I'm in touch with you. Our mothers never told us anything about it, did yours?"

"Didn't I just tell you my mom never had any friends?"

"Well, you must not know a lot about her, then. Because your mother was obviously loved. We're trying to set up a reunion for them, because they are too stubborn to tell us anything, nonetheless, meet up with each other again. They're all depressed, and besides, we want to know our history. Somehow, it feels like we are connected in some way. Is there a chance you could meet up with us this summer? There's no school, and you need to hide where you are going, so they won't become suspicious and drag our butts back home. We'll devise a way that we can unite them all together."

Irene sighed. This was way more intriguing than some loony place. "I'm going to some clinic in Utah." She rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows, so I might as well tell you, I have bulimia, and you can't imagine the trouble I'll get into, if I don't go."

Alicia bit her lip on the other line. Miles away, she could already sense the pain and anguish in her voice, it was straining and she could tell, despite her bitter and cruel attitude, she was broken. But she knew what that was like, she could sense it in her mother's eyes every day. And broken wasn't something you could just fix easily, it was why she was doing this.

"I know I won't be of much help, but I'll try. I don't know you, but if you convince your mother to let you out of rehab, then we'll find a way to pick you up there and meet us in Jersey. My father owns a house there. In fact, I'll even fly there, if you want to convince your mother for you."

Irene shook her head. "How can you pull that off?"

Alicia shrugged her shoulders and spoke back into the phone. "Cassandra's amazing. She's so clever. She got each of us these fake brochures that told of this sleep away camp for teenage girls. Canoeing, sailing, hiking, the works. She even got fake forms and checks to last us for weeks. We got all of their signatures and permission and they're not even riding us up there, we're taking a plane over. They all know the camp's in Jersey. I don't know how we pulled it off without any glitches, they think we'll be sleeping in bunks and making smores while singing camp songs around the fire. All we have to do is purchase you a plane ticket and send you all the packets. It's perfect. We'll even pick you from the airport. But I have to find a way to fly over to New York, where you are, in order to put this plan into action."

Irene's mouth formed into a genuine grin. "So we could convince my mom that this camp will help better myself."

"Don't worry about anything, I'll call you when I get there."

Irene hung up the phone and sincerely smiled. She looked back at her reflection and her eyes were healing and color was coming back into her pale face.

She was finding a way out. But most importantly, even though she despised her, she would find something about her mom, who she was, and where she came from, and that people actually loved the guarded woman. And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long time, Irene would be loved, and in return, Irene would learn how to love, just one more time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry. This summer has been crazy but there is still no excuse for me not updating. This chapter is more of a filler, and hints on what's to come. The focus of this story is to also help Irene out. **

It had taken 3 agonizing nights and 4 unstoppable days of persuasion and chatter to convince her mother to let her go. And out of all the days when she would starve herself to death, hear her stomach grumble endlessly as she rolled around in bed, and witness herself day-by-day disappearing from a living person to a walking skeleton, those nights, she had to admit, were the worst of her life. She would kill herself if she would be sent to the rehabilitation facility in Utah. It wasn't that she was annoyed that she would have to give up all sources of civilization in order to qualify for treatment; it was because she was simply _scared. _Scared, because her mother was sending her to an unknown place for whom knows-how-long. Scared because her insecurities would be even more emphasized to people who barely knew her, to people who were given rights by the government and the state of Utah, even her own flesh-and-blood, except the actual person being treated to "help" her. To make her "feel better about herself."

But there was only one question that Irene needed answering in. How could people tell her how to love herself when all her life, all she's felt was _hate?_ Do you just teach a class on how to accept yourself for who you are? To Irene, she would never ignore her insecurities and that negative conscious in the back of her mind that she wasn't good enough, until she learned how to do it herself, not with the hovering guidance of her teachers, mother, or lunatics in the asylum.

And now she was given the opportunity…..

Alicia had successfully managed to convince her mother to let her daughter try out camp for the summer. She vowed that if it didn't work out to set standards, then Irene would immediately board a flight from Jersey to Salt Lake City, where she would take a Greyhound to the clinic. In order to avoid that personal prison, Irene and Alicia who disguised herself as the "counselor" of the _Seastone Sleepaway Camp for Girls, _promised to mail a weekly report on Irene's eating habits. Alicia had also managed to explain to the reluctant mother that at camp, unlike rehab, she would be able to fully relax in nature, make friends with other girls, as well as do many other activities and hobbies like ceramics, rock climbing, swimming, without the unnecessary pressure and stress of traveling to Utah would be. With that, Irene would also be under care with Alicia, because her "job" was to oversee and supervise the girls. She held herself as personally responsible for whatever would happen at the camps as she thought of these girls as her "daughters."

* * *

_Flashback _

"_At Seastone, we offer a variety of activities as well as building and constructing a healthy, well-maintained environment for the girls to relax in over the summer vacation. We all eat healthy, exercise, but this isn't a health camp. We learn how to have a lot of fun too. It was actually one of the most recommended sleepaway camps for __**Parent and Teen Magazine. **__I will oversee girls like Irene and will provide you reports on her diet and nutrition. Basically, I am concerned about her health just as much as any parent would be, Miss Rollins…." _

_Alicia managed to demonstrate a fake, overly-perky grin and gave her a few more pamphlets about the "camp." _

_Tibby raised her eyebrows at the immense information and details that the eccentric counselor had blurted out. She glanced at Irene, secretly asking her through her eyes if this was what she really wanted to do. _

_Irene eagerly nodded back and her expressive green eyes danced with joy as Tibby sighed in defeat. "Thank you for all of your patience over these past few days, Alicia. I can see that Irene clearly does not want to try out Utah and would prefer interacting at Seastone. As long as the promises are kept, and the reports are delivered, and she is allowed on special permission to phone call me at least every other day to tell me how she is doing, I suppose I can find a way to pay. _

"_YES!" Irene squealed and jumped up in happiness. _

_Alicia smiled victoriously. Her plan had worked, after all. _

"_When does session start?"_

"_All you have to do is pack your bags with proper and comfortable camp clothes. There is a supply list in one of your pamphlets. Also make sure that you bring your boarding pass for Newark, New Jersey. After we will take an hour long bus ride to Seaside, New Jersey. I'll fly out with Irene, tomorrow afternoon." _

_Tibby was astounded at her organization. "You already have two boarding passes?" _

_Alicia reached inside her backpack for proof of her purchase. She let out a tiny slip of paper proving her purchase for airline tickets online. "Irene shelled out all of her allowance for her pass." _

_Irene shrugged. "I really wanted to go, and I thought money would be an issue." _

_Tibby laughed. "I can see you were confident. Thank you Alicia, we'll pack and I'll drive you guys out in the morning. I appreciate you coming all this way to convince us…." _

_Alicia grinned widely back and almost jumped up to join with Irene's happy dances around their crammed apartment. _

_Tibby stared further at Alicia. She didn't really notice her strong Latina features, until now. In fact, Alicia looked eerily like a person from her past, a person from so long ago, that she seemed like a fictional character from a tattered book on her shelf. A person who was once part of an unbreakable friendship, but whose friendship was shattered after life had turned them into a million different directions, only not the directions that pointed to the other. Sadness clouded over her as Alicia walked to hug Irene, reminding her of how life threw you the hardest of curveballs, and still so many years after the game, the effect of the ball still managed to hurt. _

_Tibby thought about them everyday and the scar in her heart wound deeper once she began to observe Alicia further. Not only did she have the same look and heritage of Carmen Lowell, she also had the same feisty and loud personality that her sister, or "former sister" was acknowledged for. _

"_ALICIA!" _

_Alicia turned and faced Tibby's direction. "Yes Miss Rollins?" _

"_How old are you? And who is your mother?" _

_Alicia's body went into shock. Oh no, why didn't she think of it? She had to improvise right away or else all of Cassandra's plans would be uncovered and they would be in so much more trouble than they could afford. _

"_I'm 21. I just finished college, at um, Williams? And my mom is Maria Rodriguez."_

_Tibby raised one arched eyebrow. "You are 21?" The young girl was so baby-faced; she could have mistaken her for 16. _

"_Yeah, I majored in philosophy at Williams. Best years of my life." _

_Tibby nodded in agreement, forgetting about her emerging suspicions. Years were wearing her out, how could Carmen have a long-lost daughter who had ended up in her home, about to whisk her daughter away. What were they, reuniting or something? It was way too long for that, anymore. And besides, how could that happen, anyway? They probably lived everywhere across the country, the odds were almost exaggerated. _

_But the thing was, no matter what it ended in, Tibby would have still loved to see them, see their faces, see them as mothers, see them as what they are now. And it was amazing, it was amazing because they were supposed to be best friends forever, and it was amazing, that after all those years of having someone to guide her and love her, Tibby now didn't have anyone, she would be __**alone. **_

_Which was the last thing she would have ever wanted, or expected to have been…… _

* * *

Irene and Alicia wordlessly stared out into the open space that was Seastone Beach, New Jersey. Their cab ride seemed to whirl by them as they pointed out the several beaches, boys, and boutiques and shacks that Seastone consisted of. Irene thought of it as a calm sanctuary from the bustling and busy lights and skyscrapers and people of the Big Apple.

Late afternoon had slowly transitioned into a crisp evening breeze. Irene breathed it in; she absorbed everything that surrounded her. She was beyond happy, beyond happy at the fact that there was a world above it all; a world that existed and didn't care that she wasn't good enough, a world that included Alicia and Seastone Beach, and a place where she wouldn't have strangers telling her she wasn't good enough. She, instead had something even more special. She had a _friend. _

It was late at night by the time they reached the modest beach house just blocks away from the sandy shores of the New Jersey coastlines. It was dark, and the cab had finally whirred to a stop, and a door creaked slightly open as she heard footsteps gathering behind the vehicle. Finally, Irene spoke to Alicia after long moments of silence.

"Thank you," she whispered, gratitude filling her voice.

Alicia reached out to hold her in her arms, a girl she had barely knew and just met, but feel like she could have known her entire life. The two girls didn't notice the sympathetic and at the same time, confused stares of the two onlookers behind them.

"You're going to be okay, Irene. This is your home now."

And with that, a new sisterhood would start to form.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back! We're going to take a rest from the generation of Sisterhood daughters and move on to a more angsty and deeper look. This is from Lena's perspective and you'll find out a little more in the mystery of Lena and Cassandra Kaligaris. **

It was a perfect daylight by the time Lena had reached home. She was exhausted and after long days of steady work and pay by teaching therapy art at the retirement home 2 hours away from their isolated and secluded home located at a small town in South Carolina, the only word or art that stayed in her head for the aftermath of the day would be: _rest. _

She immediately threw her hideous, trademark brown loafers off and changed into some khakis and an unflattering white semi-sleeved, plain shirt. As she opened the porch door to greet the remnants of sunlight left, she basked in all its glory, and quietly sat down on a chair, laying down at a position where all of her unwashed, but luscious, brown hair was spread all across the piece of furniture. Every time it was this time of day, when she let her hair down, she felt like an island princess rushed away at shore, oblivious to the rest of the world buzzing around her.

This was her sacred place, the "island" of where beauty not just existed superficially but in all types of things, like nature and the colors of the sunset, and the seagulls that would fly gallantly for all to see. To them, she wasn't Lena Kaligaris, Greek beauty, but a mere stranger.

Noelle, South Carolina, small town miles away from the nearest big city reminded her of a place which also served as inspiration for her. A place of not only where she had found real beauty, and art, but a place of where she had found the greatest gift of all, Kostos.

She had never found someone who could infuriate her so much and yet still, make her heart flutter, every time he acknowledged her. Their love had been one of various storms and obstacles, yet almost every time, they seemed to make it through, their love only growing as much as an individual's love for new beginnings.

Their love, however, never stopped short of storms, only seeming to get darker within each span of time. It was either her insecurities of his fail of understanding that she needed a breath once in a while. It was his smothering or her pushing away, and their personalities darkened and clashed.

Lena closed her eyes as a wave of nostalgia came over her, a longing for the past, yet at the same time, a bitterness and regret for it. She longed for smelling his salty scent and being wrapped in his arms for what seemed like minutes, when rather, it would be hours. For the days when he would softly kiss her as he whisked her away on his grandfather's stinky fishing boat, and when they would swim together in their garments on the edge of the caldera. It seemed just like yesterday, but 45 years ago, simultaneously. But then with a burning hatred, she remembered his stubbornness, how his forehead crinkled and his eyes furied whenever she would slam the door or scream her temper out.

But deep inside, Lena knew, just knew, it was always her that pushed Kostas away. Though he played a vital part in their departing, she knew it would always be her that would be the one to walk away.

In fact, that was the plan, Lena continued remembering as she blindly looked up at the daylight that had slowly crossed over to evening. She proceeded to sit in her chair as she blinked twice, reminiscing.

Her dream was to have been traveling the world, painting on the streets of a busy Paris, wearing a beret and chewing a crepe, creating a masterpiece of oily colors and mixtures of a landscape in Hawaii, strolling throughout London photographing sights and listening to sounds of what a huge city was like. Though she loved Greece, she realized there was a world so much bigger than the two of them, at 16, Kostos was her world, but at 22, fresh out of college graduation from RISD, she found that she wanted to find _Lena. _Though she loved Santorini and every other remnant of Greece, she found that this was Kostos's world already, he breathed, tasted, smelled everything of this town, and Lena, Lena's imagination was too big enough to fit on the small and secluded Greek island.

And one of the sad things was that, she thought he would realize that too, but he didn't.

After another one of their overbearing, screaming, torturous fights, she had finally taken a long breath, and decided to leave. Escape. Lena would write a rushed and insincere note and after, a number of inevitable calls and voice messages of pleads from Kostas to come home, that he was sorry, and that they could work things out, he would eventually stop, leave her, and let her continue through her life, let her fulfill the life she had always dreamed of having. Lena figured that she would be able to move on and forget about the beautiful, little island, and that would become a long, forgotten memory.

But as she waited to board her Barcelona flight, that rainy evening in the middle of a bustling Athens, she couldn't escape that look of pain and longing in Kostas's eyes, that unspeakable and dark silence that followed as she filed into a ferry boat and whispered _I'm sorry, _and turned her head, to never look back. But most of all, she couldn't escape that heavy, empty feeling that was beginning to open and pour out in her heart as she quietly sat in her seat on the plane and took off.

Lena opened her eyes, one last time, shocked at the sudden breeze that was starting to form. She quietly filed back inside to her home, locking the porch door and settling onto her couch. She put a hand to her face, tiredly, wondering when she was going to stop strolling down memory lane.

_Paris had turned out to be everything she expected. The food, the art of the Louvre, the culture, and the lights had all inspired her day-by-day. It astounded her, astounded her that she was given the opportunity to explore. It was as if opportunities and doors had opened on every corner of this city. _

_It was as if every day was a dream, a chance for her to make it, and fulfill everything she had ever studied and work hard for. Though her art wasn't necessarily taking off, she was still satisfied at this everyday journey and exploration. Youth passed by quickly and she wanted to breathe in it every day. _

_But it seemed that as time kept woring on and on, as much as a pair of old denim would fade and tear, her heart became heavier and denser each time she set foot on the streets. Surprisingly, no call from Kostas had emerged, no pleads, no letters, __**nothing. **__It was as if he had simply moved on from her and had started a brand-new life already. And though Lena knew she was happy being on her own, and needed no one to depend on, there was a fear in her, that somehow knew, she still wanted Kostas to love her, because she knew there was no way that she could stop. _

_These complicated thoughts filled throughout her head and heart, as she silently put a quiet and shaking hand to her stomach. For weeks and months, she had thrown up almost every day, and could barely complete her morning jogs throughout the European sunrise because of painful cramps and aching tiredness. And mysteriously, had even skipped her period. She became overall suspicious, as she had never felt this way before, and her time of the month was usually regular. _

_And realization had dawned on her, once she woke up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning from another dream of Kostas holding a pale baby wrapped in a blanket. She remembered what her high school health teacher had taught of pregnancy symptoms, of how to tell if you could be carrying child. She didn't think something so small, so precious, something so full of life, could be described as something as objective as science. _

_Lena delicately raised the stick and briefly glanced at it, her exquisite green eyes filling with tears once she realized what was happening. It was positive, a little plus sign, objectively telling her that she was responsible for life, she was going to have to raise a piece of life, a piece of life with someone she had ended it with. _

_Lena gasped and her body wracked with sobs as she fell to the floor, feeling sick. She was on her own, her father and mother were on the edge of estrangement because they were so against her and her impending art career, she had no friends left except for a few free-spirited bohemians and artists in Paris, and the father of her child was now in Greece, mailing out divorce papers to end their short-lived marriage. She had already signed them. How could she have not seen this coming? Years ago, she never would have imagined to bear child at such a young and vulnerable age. And now she had barely anyone to help her since she had burned bridges with nearly everyone who crossed her way, including the man she had at once thought she could have spent forever with, her masterpiece and only, true work of art. _

_And it was the reason why she had bore her child, alone. And though she knew that she wouldn't raise her child in the most normal of circumstances, she knew that she could do this. She had once been a mother, a care taker to a group of girls who had been her forever, as well. A group of girls, she had found her first love within, and though they didn't live out their dreams together, as much as they would have wanted too, she had at least, learned enough from them to know how to give love, instead of sharing and taking it. _

_Her beautiful, almost identical looking daughter hadn't known of her father, and her father never knew of her daughter, for years. Cassandra had become her world now, and though she would have given her soul up to provide everything Cassandra would ever need, the incredible pain and nostalgia that would draw from seeing her only love's face again would be far too much of a price for her to pay. _

_It wasn't until she traveled back to Greece again to prepare for her grandmother's funeral that she laid eyes on him again. It was as if someone had flipped the pages of her own autobiography and landed years back to the scene of her own Bapi's funeral. After a long and tumultuous summer apart, Lena had learned of Kostas's impending marriage, and she had once thought that would be the end of their fairytale. Only time told that, that was especially not the case. _

_Lena couldn't focus on the sermon delivered at the small Greek Church to where Valia had spent years attending services. Instead, all she could focus on was the dark and expressionless eyes of his, how despite 2 years apart, he still managed to take her breath away, and most of all, how she could never seem to escape that pit of nervousness forming from the insides of her brain. She silently turned to Cassandra who was sleeping soundly on her lap of the hard wood pews. Her mother and father behind her, older and tired of age right behind her. Effie, a college student then, sat beside Lena, ruffling the dark hair of her only niece. _

_She ignored Kostas's questionable eyes at her, until dawn arrived, and everyone silently walked back to their blue-tinted roofs at the still magnificent island surrounding them. She had promised her good-byes to Effie and quietly nodded back to Mom and Dad, when she turned over to find Kostas positioned right in front of her. Ready to pounce on her, Lena sensed an immediate fear. _

_"How are you, Lena?" Kostas's heavy expression turned lighter, as he pulled a strand of wandering hair behind her ear. _

_Lena gulped. "Tired." Lena had always been reserved and quite shy, but that feeling of once being 16 with him started to wave on her. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him, and whisper that she needed him, needed him as a father, as a friend, as Lena's forever. He belonged to her, as did she to him. _

_Kostas sighed and put a hand to his dark, scruffy hair. "I won't drag on this conversation more than it needs too, Lena. I'll just tell it straight-forward. I know about Cassandra." His face pointed to the exhausted 2-year old, snuggled in her mother's protective arms. "Valia told me about it just days before she died. She knew she couldn't let go until she knew that I knew the truth." _

_Fat tears rolled off of Lena's porcelain cheeks, and her elegant features reddened with embarrassment and shame. "You don't know how many times I picked up the pen or threw out a letter. I wanted to tell you….I wanted to tell you so, so much. But the last time that we had seen each other, I couldn't bear doing it again. Looking at you now makes me feel like I'm in high school again, like there will always be an eternal summer. And though I would have traded traveling to Europe and exploring the world and completing my art, just to stay with you on your smelly fishing boat and staying married to you and starting a family with just you, me, and Cassandra, I knew you would have never been happy, because you deserve someone who is so much better than me and can give you all that love to which you deserve." _

_Lena put a hand to his face to lightly stroke his warm cheek, it warmed her frozen fingers up. "That's why I never called. So you could live the life with the girl you deserve. And I would live the life that I should have, as well. Alone." _

_Kostas shook his head away angrily and stepped a foot backward. "You never understood, did you, Lena? It always seems to come back to you, doesn't it? Why can't you just accept the fact that I love you? I would have come with you wherever you wanted to go, but instead, as usual, __**you **__chose to walk away. You chose to leave things where they were at, and run away. If you love me and I love you, why do I have to find someone else? Why must we live lives miserable when we could have lived them the way we wanted too? Well, if you want to end up alone and raising a child by yourself in America, that's fine. I'm done trying with us. But that doesn't mean I get rights away from my child. I want to spend time with Cassandra, before you leave. I know you leave in 2 days, so I'll spend all of tomorrow with her. When you get home, we'll discuss matters about sending Cassandra here every summer to live with me." _

_Lena's eyes went wide and she hugged her daughter's cold body into her arms even more. "Are you going to take my own child away from me, for months at a time?" _

_Kostas's eyes raged with fury. "Our child, you mean. You didn't have her by yourself, she's my daughter, too. And I have just as much right to her as you do." _

_Lena's eyes spilled with sobs. "You can't do this to me. This isn't like you…." _

_Kostas went up closer to her, whispering in her shaking ear. "You changed and I changed, both for the worst." _

_He let go of his grasp of hers and coldly walked away. Long nights later, Lena realized that was the first time that she didn't walk away first. _

After spending hours with her father, Lena knew just where Cassandra belonged. She was far happier in Santorini, than she would ever be in New York. Like her father, she had the spirit of a free horse running through the wild. And she knew he would be a far better parent than she could ever give. Like her father, Cassandra knew how to love, and the only thing that Lena could do was receive it. She had tried, she had….

But the only time in the world that Cassandra could ever spent with him was one summer, and just like that, Lena's whole world tumbled again, everything going topsy-turvy once she had received a frantic and hysterical phone call from Effie and Kostas's grandmother. Apparently, Kostas and Cassandra had gotten into a car accident when they were traveling all over Athens. Luckily, Cassandra was fine, but she would surgery and a whole lot of medical bills for her to be able to walk again, but Kostas, the driver, was not.

It took Lena 2 plane rides, and a long-hour drive to the secluded hospital to find a confused and scared Cassie. All night, she had cried with Cassandra in her arms, looking to her as her security. She could have lost her, she was on the brink of almost losing everything important to her. And as Lena closed her eyes that night, to a short sleep, she realized that she should have just wrapped her arms around Kostas that night, and told him though she lost, Bridget, Carmen, Tibby, Valia, and her mother and father, it doesn't have to mean that she should lose him too. After years together and apart, that was truly when everything ended with her and Kostas.

And as Cassandra fell into deep nights of slumber, she promised to herself, promised everything that she would always protect her. She would protect her from the evils of love, protect her from the tragedy and scars of her father, everything. Hopefully, it would mean Cassandra wouldn't have to go through what her mother had gone through. And she could live her life in safety, with her. She wouldn't know of anything, because the last thing Cassandra would have to feel is heartbreak.

And with that, Lena prepared for a life alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**I know, I know, I'm sorry. I'm terrible with updating, and I hate giving excuses, but not have I just been busy, I've been having major writer's block, I lacked inspiration until now when I just had a total jolt of writers-phobia. Anyways, I'll make up for it soon since I feel a lot more energized, so here's a chapter. I'm excited about the progression of this story. **

**Did any of you watch: "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2?" I LOVED it, though I would have wanted a bit more Kostas and Lena, it was a good make-up for the lack of the 4 girls we all love throughout all these years. Anyways, enjoy this chapter, and thank you for all your reviews. Thank you for sticking with me and thank you for loving these characters, new and old just like I do... **

Memories are hazy…..

They are figments of a life lived and chapters of a story that are still being written and smeared on ink repeatedly until ultimately, the storybook closes and the memories fade away into camouflaged lines of stained pen….

They are lessons learned…

But most of all, they are representations of the people and the places that individuals have encountered and learned from,

And the memories are what mold the person, even the most lost individual into a glorious piece of art, into someone that finally understands what life is worth living…

For Cassandra, her most lucid, and chronologically nearest memory she remembers was the fateful morning that had transformed her life forever: it was the day she was picked up at preschool.

_Cassandra Kaligaris was at first, starry-eyed and as energized as a frog leaping from lily pad to lily pad, but after the most tragic day at preschool, all hope was lost for the beautiful, pig-tailed 4-year old in a homemade sewn dress. _

_An outsider in its full definition, Cassandra stood out remarkably out of a bevy of blonde-hair, blue eyed Dakota Fanning wannabes with Lily Pulitzer dresses and pinned up shoulder-length curls. _

_She set down her "Art is Life" lunchbox and sighed as her mom closed the garage door and locked the front porch door. She felt two thin arms embrace her chest as her stomach slightly queased less due to the familiar scent of her mom's perfume. It was one of her only last strands of hope that was the spineless thread of her __**really **__bad day. _

_One fat tear glided off Cassandra's porcelain cheek and landed on the hardwood floor. _

"_No one wanted to be friends with me, mommy….." _

_Lena turned Cassandra's body forward a few more degrees to face her and wiped away the teardrops on her daughter's delicate little doll face. _

"_I want you to teach, baby, that not everyone in the world will like you or be your friend because sometimes there will always be really mean people. But it's their loss, Cassandra, because any one, no matter how many or how little is lucky to have you as their friend…" _

This memory, despite how hazy or foggy the time or place was to her, had stuck to Cassandra Kaligaris for the rest of time.

She had learned her mother's fateful lesson the hard way as she continued struggling socializing and making friends throughout the span of her days in school. Most of the time, she found solace in her drawing room, the hideaway she constructed where she could easily access it through climbing a ladder that was connected from her room to her little corner of the world, the little heaven she called her home.

There, she little Cassandra Kaligaris, drew out each memory in vivid detail, drawing of a world of friendship bracelets, of sleepovers, and pillow fights, of color, of light, of music, and laughter, of kindness, and generosity, of everything that she had crossed her fingers for and closed her eyes and lifted up her hands to pray for. Years of prayers and soft whispers, hope and faith had finally led up to this.

Cassandra opened her eyes to finally comprehend where she was now…

Over the course of 3 days, she had never found such beautiful soul mates to which she barely knew, but had a strong and easy connection with. Sparks fly, and an electric current flows and it felt like she could finally lift herself off of the window and fly through the open skies as if she were swimming through the Florida seas, or in this case, the New Jersey seas.

She laughed at Irene's dry sarcasm, cherished her junk food sessions and movie nights with Jewel, and vintage shopped with Alicia beyond the junky tourist districts that Seastone, New Jersey seemed to only consist of.

A huge smile lit up her previously coarse and dull face from so many years before as all 4 of them bonded over the campfire that warmed their frail bodies on chilly nights. Passing around Hershey bars, wiener dogs, marshmallows, and graham crackers, all they did was talk as fireflies drew out pictures in front of them and stars created imaginary fireworks throughout a painted night sky.

For once, Cassandra did not have to paint out something of a life dreamed; the canvas was already completed for her.

"I write song lyrics when I'm writing an in-class essay at school. I just pretend I'm writing," Jewel laughed, her eyes wandering off, staring into a dark distance. "I'm not the type to sit down and always have to do just one thing. I do a million things at once. Hey, Irene, pass me the ketchup bottle…"

Irene rolled her eyes and threw the condiment at her. "Hmmm….so much for being active, huh?"

She took off her black flip-flops to rest more comfortably on her plaid-patterned flannel blanket. "I watch horror movies to relax me…"

"I once tried a peanut butter and mustard sandwich because I didn't have any other ingredients with me," Alicia blushed.

"I still wear my ballet tutu's, just for good luck," Cassandra grinned.

"I still listen to my 90's boy-bands."

Irene rolled her eyes. "Cause you always have to get your daily dose of LFO, right? After all, they were so _dreamy." _

Jewel threw the ketchup bottle back at her. "Shut up, why do you always have to make fun of what _I _say?"

Irene laughed and put a comforting arm on her shoulder. "I only do it cause I love you, babe."

Cassandra giggled, her teeth shining brightly in a maze of black evening. "Okay, Irene, come on, this is fun. It's your turn."

Irene shook her head, her expression changing sourly from a teasing one to grim as her took a deep breath and sighed out. "I can't get over my bulimia. Despite how bad I want too, and how much I want to get better, it _hurts. _It _hurts _because every time I see myself in the mirror, I see this _mess. _This _mess _of _**imperfection **_that screams out that I'm not good enough, I'm not pretty enough, not if I eat….

That salty feeling, the heavy one that forms at the end of your throat, that is stirred when you are just about to cry, broke free and Irene cried. She cried from so many years of feeling neglected, of insecurity, of abandonment, of hardships… no matter how much happiness she endured, she would never escape the feeling of not being good enough…

Cassandra leaped out of her comfort zone at the left corner of the campfire, her usual spot, and plotted down to wipe away the tears from Irene's red, embarrassed face as Alicia and Jewel scooted further to rub her cold, aching arms.

"I promised you that you are going to get better, Irene. And you will, as long as I am here to help it. But baby, you have to swear to me, you are going to try to get yourself better and not just by eating, but by believing that you are good enough. I, _we_ can't help you if you can't help it first…."

"Irene, you are one of the most beautiful girls I have ever known," Jewel whispered to her, tightening her hold on her vulnerable friend's arm.

"And you are kind…and smart…and strong, you can beat this. No doctor has to tell you that, we don't have to tell you that, because we know deep down, you know you can…"

Irene nodded through her mesh of sobs, and finally croaked out: "I know I can. I'm going to be all right girls. I'm going to be okay, just stay with me."

And throughout that night they did, they stayed with her, rocking her to sleep. They did it that night, and a few more, and a month's more, and with promise, they stayed with her throughout the rest of that summer and the rest of their lives, with the promise lurking of renewal and new beginnings, not just of their moms or family, but with the cleansing of themselves.

Finally, in all the hazy memories and foggy vision, there was _hope. _


End file.
